To the Rescue

One of the most hallowed of all Hollywood clichés is that of being saved at the last moment. This was the basic appeal of such ongoing series of narrow escapes, as The Perils of Pauline, or the weekly serials which many of us fondly remember, in which the hero was left in some precarious position, and the only way you could vicariously save him was by coming to see the next thrilling episode. It was no doubt offerings such as these that gave rise to such graphic expressions as “cliff-hanger” and “nail-biter.”

But the truly classic cinematic rescue was the arrival of the Cavalry –usually heralded by an appropriate bugle call – just when all hope seemed lost – to save the band of innocents surrounded by ferocious savages. 

All of this, however, is relatively recent stuff. The idea of being saved by some external (usually divine) agency is at least as old as the story of Noah and the Great Flood. And the ancient Greeks employed a theatrical device, which came to be known in its Latin version as a “Deus ex machina” (literally, a “God from a machine”). If the script so required, an actual machine, probably some kind of crane, was used to lower an actor – perhaps representing a god – right down onto the stage in the middle of the action, interrupting everything that was going on but having a kind of magic answer to whatever sticky crisis the drama had reached.

It was, however, Christianity that elevated such concepts to unprecedented theological heights. In no other major religion (that I know of) is its Founder so undeniably identified as a “Savior” – i.e., one who saves. The attribute has attached itself, Hispanically, to geography (El Salvador) and even to personal names (Salvador Dali). And of course, we English-speakers have those dedicated soul-savers known as the Salvation Army.

Perhaps no people have had more justification to look for divine intervention than those being held in life-long servitude. American slaves, who were sometimes allowed biblical consolation, could hardly fail to see a resemblance between their own plight and that of the Children of Israel, held in bondage in ancient Egypt. We hear it, of course, in their spiritual longings to “cross Jordan,” to be carried home in a “sweet chariot,” and even more explicitly in their echoing of Moses’ plea to Pharaoh to “Let my people go.”

But the need for rescue can take many forms – sometimes even financial. Perhaps that’s why those who’ve backed Broadway productions, often at great risk, came to be known as “Angels.” Then again, in the realm of competitive sport, it may explain why a desperate, almost hopeless American football stratagem (which originated at Notre Dame University) is called a “Hail Mary pass.”

In more mundane terms, we are constantly hearing about dramatic rescues, whether on an individual basis such as plucking a flood-marooned family from the roof of their home, or getting a frightened cat down from a tree – or of mass evacuations, like the deliverance of an entire British army from Dunkirk in 1940 – or enabling an encircled city to survive with air-lifted supplies, as with Berlin in 1948-49.

What’s sad is that so many of these dramas require rescue, not from natural disasters, of which there are certainly enough to keep any salvation agency busy, but, even in “peacetime,” from fellow members of the species sometimes known as “humankind”: terrorists, hostage-takers, kidnappers, abusers, and all the others whom our “social services” have so far somehow failed to reach.

So, with all this emphasis, throughout our lives, upon the drama of rescue, might one be permitted to ask, what is it all for? No doubt you have heard that irreverent jibe, “Jesus saves – I spend,” which can’t help but remind us of another similarly impious utterance: “In God we trust – All others pay cash.” 

The miners are still trapped in the mine, the spelunkers in the cave, the workers in the burning building. Somewhere in the world, there is always somebody who needs to be saved from something. Yet, unless our faith is very strong (and even that may not work), nothing can ultimately save any of us.

But that is all in the long run, and nobody says we have to run that far – not in this article anyway. Let’s just be glad there are brave people willing to risk their own lives to save those of others, possibly much less worthy, whom they don’t even know.